My Journey through HAM Radio Anonymous

It was uncomfortably hot, when we climbed the last bend of the mountain; another 25 minutes added to the 2 hour drive from base camp- an excruciating journey. I was leading an expedition in Almora, a rugged terrain known for its dangerous, steep slopes. Far below, I saw the village – Bansoli, disconnected from the mainland, an insular existence. And if, perchance, a flood struck as it often did in these areas, the inhabitants would need to flee… or be swept away. I dismissed this macabre thought from my mind. After all it wouldn’t happen, as I was there to fix it.

Upon reaching the school we were aiming for, we were greeted by an early prayer, followed by announcements, ending with the recitation of the thought of the day. The principal introduced us all to the premises that boasted four dilapidated rooms offering education to 250 students. We were then invited to breakfast on fruit as the principal bemoaned the several calamities this village had endured, the latest being the recent Uttarakhand floods. Yet the villagers were loath to leave their birth place. He took us outside, pointing out the ravaged houses and destroyed vegetation. Some people had died, victims to the wrath of nature. Had they possessed a mode of...